


Decision Time

by myrna123



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: Challenge: The Love, Drama, Love Me Do Challenge, M/M, h/c
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-10
Updated: 2013-05-10
Packaged: 2017-12-11 06:32:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,666
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/794932
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/myrna123/pseuds/myrna123
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Things have been a little rocky in Jim and Blair's relationship, so Blair decides to take an afternoon to be surrounded by nature.  But when the unexpected happens, will their bond help save Blair?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Decision Time

If I keep this up, I'm going to have a reputation as the Number One Schmaltziest writer in all of fandom. 

Perhaps I can avoid typecasting if I publicly acknowledge that I have another piece in the works which deals with a Jim and Blair who are *hotly* denying the attraction they so obviously have for one another which leads to *much* anger, fighting, betrayal and otherwise fierce emotions with nary an ounce of schmaltz for miles around?! 

But this is in response to the Love, Love Me Do challenge, and apparently, schmaltz is the only thing I can do on short notice. 

Quickness and quality share an extremely adverse relationship where I'm concerned, so please forgive the glaring inaccuracies or inconsistencies you see herein. 

On the Canon Meter, with 0 being Could Appear as a Televised Episode and 10 being, Jim/Blair Names Substituted in for Person A/Person B, this is about a 7. Just so you know. And you know that I know. And I know that you know that I know. You know? 

This story is in no way affiliated with UPN or Pet Fly Productions. The characters are their property, and this story is not meant to infringe upon their copyrights. 

I can't remember enough about the song to give it proper credit. It's an INXS song, which might be called Make Time Stop and might be called something else, but I promise to get it properly attributed some time in the near future. 

## Decision Time

by Myrna

"It's getting dark, Jim. Not that you'll have any trouble seeing. Might have to think up a good lie to explain away your super human night vision to the others, though. Bet you'll miss having me close by then, huh?...That's not fair. Not the way it sounds. You *are* a lousy liar, I meant that part. Sometimes I still can't believe you were a vice cop. I mean, all anyone has to do is watch that jaw of yours twitching at a hundred miles an hour to know you're lying. No, I meant that I know you don't mind having me around. Even like it sometimes, right Big Man? I can call you Big Man out here. No way to slip up and have someone accidentally hear me. Although, I still think a person could infer a lot more hearing you call me Baby than hearing me call you Big Man. Hey, as far as they're concerned I could be talking about your height, right? Or your ego. Either one of those would fit the bill, wouldn't they? 

I'm cold now. I couldn't feel anything for the longest time. Now I'm cold. It should probably hurt, but it doesn't anymore. I think that scared me at first, but it doesn't now. Weird, huh? Hey, Jim? I know you're coming, okay? I know you're going to be here any second, playing hero, saving the day and all that. I *know* it. I just don't want you to.....I mean, if you don't get here in time, I don't want you to....you know, blame yourself or anything. Ah, that's a waste of breath. I know you will. Right now, I'm kind of scared you won't get here in time. 

It doesn't hurt anymore, Jim. Don't worry about that, okay? It doesn't hurt, but something's....something's wrong. Maybe because it *should* hurt, I don't know. I can't breathe so hot and everything keeps....tightening up or something. I'm probably bleeding inside. Shock will set in soon. Maybe it already has. Shit, I'm sorry to put you through this. I swear, I was just coming out here to think. Look at the mountains. Watch the sunset. It smells so clean up here. So unspoiled. I was just going to clear my head and get ready for our big heart-to-heart. Guess I should have been paying closer attention, huh? I guess I was already starting to think about the make up sex. 

Ah, man, this sucks! Even if you get here in the next few minutes, we're probably looking at a few days in the hospital. Jeez, it'll be Sunday before we consummate the make up. That really does suck. 

Man, I'm way off track. What was I talking about? Oh, yeah, I wanted you to know I'm not scared for me, Jim. I mean if I....if I go, I go, you know? I've never been too worried about that part of it. I've got all kinds of legends and....and myths to keep me company. But I'm scared for you. I don't....I don't want you to go back to being that....lonely, isolated person you were before. I don't want you to....to keep everyone at arm's length. I don't want you to go back to the loft all by yourself.....Not that I'm expecting you to find someone else right away, I mean, come on, show me a *little* respect here, a healthy period of mourning, then you can go out and find yourself someone nice..... 

Maybe someone a little more like you. Boy, no one could accuse us of being too much alike, huh? Sometimes I think it's great.....I mean, I draw you out, you tone me down; I get you to loosen up, you get me to settle down. Give and take. I like that. I've never compromised for anybody but you. Never wanted to. I guess it'd be easier if we were more alike, though. Fewer disagreements. Fewer slamming doors. Of course, that would mean a hell of a lot less make up sex. You do it different after we've had a fight, do you know that? Probably. There's not a lot you do by accident, is there? I kind of envy that sometimes--the way you live your life going from point A to point B. I've always gone whichever way the wind blows me. Except for school. I've stuck with that. I know I act kind of...blase=E9 about it, like it's no big deal. I make jokes about movie rights and stuff like that, but I'm serious about what I'm doing here, and I'm really proud of the way I've stuck with it. 

Probably seems crazy to a guy like you. I mean, you don't do *anything* half-way. It seems like I grew up doing *everything* half- way. I never had time to....to finish anything before Naomi would be up and on to the next destination. My dissertation, though, that's something I've kept up for the long haul. I wasn't even sure I had it in me, but I do. Just like working with you. I figured at first, I'd get what I need for my paper, hold up my end of the bargain by showing you a few tricks for keeping your senses in check and then be done with it. You thought the same thing, right? When did you realize it was something else? Can you pinpoint a time? I don't think I can. It was like one second everything was one way and the next second, everything had changed..... 

I'm so cold, Jim. I wish I was home, in the big bed, and you were just getting in, and I could hear you downstairs brushing your teeth and straightening up my clutter. I like hearing you do that...cleaning up after me. It's so....you, you know? And then I can hear you climbing the stairs, and I know you can hear my heart start pumping faster and my temperature rising, and I listen while you take off your clothes and then you slide into bed and sometimes I can still feel the outdoors on you. And you put your arms around me and....and just hold me for a minute. Maybe kiss my shoulder or my neck, but that's it. We just lay there all quiet and close and....connected. 

That's my absolute, most favorite thing in the world about being with you. That moment of oneness when you hold on to me. There's a million other things I love about being with you, but that's the absolute tops.....Do you have a moment like that? Something I do or say that puts everything right in your mind? I hope so. It's the greatest feeling.... 

It's getting harder to breathe. I think I coughed up some blood earlier. It was too dark for me to tell. I'm so tired all of a sudden. I'm trying to stay awake, Jim, I am. It's so hard, though. I keep thinking I can here your voice saying, 'Keep trying, Baby. Do it for me, Baby. Do it for me.' I almost forget you're not here with me. It sounds like you're right next to me. I can hear you. 'Please, please, please'...that's what I hear. I wish you were, Jim. Here with me, I mean. I wish you were laying down next to me, and petting my hair like you do and whispering to me like when I have a nightmare. I love it when you tell me nothing can hurt me because you're there....I always believed it. Always..... 

Oh, god, something's wrong! Something's wrong!....I'm sorry, Jim, I'm sorry! I'm trying so hard, you've gotta believe me, okay? I'm trying as hard as I can! Promise you'll believe me, okay? Promise!"   
  


* * *

  
[Earlier that week]  


"If you're back by seven, we'll have enough time to eat before the lecture," Blair said. Jim grunted and blindly reached for the bagel somewhere behind his newspaper. "Then again, if you're home by *six,* I can fuck you senseless while you shower." 

Jim looked up from the paper. "What was that?" he asked. 

Blair smirked. "You're like Pavlov's dogs," he said, shaking his head. "All you hear is 'blah blah blah blah,' but mention the magic word 'fuck' and you perk right up." Blair ground his foot against Jim's groin. "Or at least parts of you do," he said saucily. 

Jim smacked Blair's foot out of the way. "You make me have to change my pants, and...." 

"And what, Big Man? You'll ground me? Assign me to permanent dish washing duty?...." 

"Don't call me that," Jim said, but he was grinning as he once again swiped away Blair's insistent foot. "One of these days you're going to say it at the station." 

"Says the man who can't call me anything but Baby the minute my shirt hits the floor," Blair scoffed. "Besides, you're the only one who thinks I'm talking about your *dick* when I say that. Anyone else would think I'm talking about your height." Blair straddled Jim in his chair, wiggling provocatively. "Or your bulging biceps, your straining rectus femoris, your ripped rectus abdominis." Blair untucked Jim's shirt and slid his hands up his abdomen and pinched his nipple. "Oh, man, and don't even get me started on Pectoralis Major and Minor." 

With a growl, Jim stood up, dumping Blair to the floor. "That's enough, Dr. Sandburg," he said, stuffing his shirt back in his pants and trying to walk off his erection. 

Blair grinned impishly from the floor. "Do I at least have your attention now?" he asked, batting innocent eyes at his lover. 

"Yeah, yeah, home by six, senseless fucking, home by seven, dinner before drowning in boredom." 

"Ah, hey, there. Who sat through a day and a half of "Your Friend, the Stun Gun," at that law enforcement symposium? "The Miranda Rights, Learn Them, Live Them, Love Them." You owe me so much more than two hours of 'Evolution's Effects on the Human Senses.'" 

Jim sighed tragically. "All right, all right," he grumbled. "But for all my trouble, I'm demanding the same payment you did." 

"As I recall, you walked with a limp for a week and a half after that," Blair said, letting Jim pull him into an embrace. 

Jim kissed Blair, snaking his hand down his boxers to caress his ass. "Mmm, I'll pick up the crutches on my way home," he promised, pinching Blair's butt and laughing when he squeaked in pain. He winked and grabbed his coat. "See you later, Baby." 

"Don't call me that!" Blair called after him and heard Jim laughing as he headed out the door.   
  


* * *

It was nearly seven-thirty when Blair heard Jim coming up the stairs. Jim and someone else he was laughing with. Several someone elses. Jim burst through the door with Simon and another officer, Mike Barnes at his heels. 

Coat on, ready to fly, Blair had been pacing by the front door, silently cursing the fact that his own habitual tardiness made it hard to say anything to Jim about this. Blair blinked a couple of times in surprise, but knew better than to assume Simon and Mike were joining them at the lecture. 

"You'll never guess what happened, Chief," Jim said excitedly. "We get a call this morning from some nut saying he's placed a bomb at one of the oceanfront warehouses. Doesn't tell us which warehouse, but," he winked at Blair now, "A little bit of luck falls our way, and we end up finding the bomb and disarming it!" 

"Great," Blair said faintly. 

"No, here's the best part!" Jim said. "Turns out the warehouse is owned by one very grateful Barry Ackerley, who also, fortunately for us, owns the Seattle SuperSonics, who just so happen to be playing a game tonight against the Chicago Bulls." 

"I'm sensing there's more to the story?" Blair said with a forced grin. 

"So, to show his appreciation of Cascade's finest, Ackerley offers up three tickets--courtside--to the game. But wait, you say. The game's in Seattle, right? No big deal, Ackerley sends over a private jet to fly us to and from the game. When we land in Seattle, there's going to be a helicopter waiting for us. Not bad for a day's work, huh Chief?!" 

Years of practice kept Blair's face pleasantly blank. "Courtside seats?" he repeated. "Cool." 

"Understatement of the year, there," Jim said, taking the stairs two at a time. "Hey Simon, Mike, you wanna beer? Get 'em a beer, Chief!" 

"Sure," Blair said amiably. He retrieved two bottled from the fridge, twisted off the tops and offered them. The men took them and wandered over to the balcony, ignoring Blair in favor of a muted conversation between each other. 

Blair swallowed against the lump at the back of his throat, telling himself the degree of his disappointment was overstated to say the least. He could easily get a video tape of the lecture. And even if he had wanted to talk to Dr. Granger personally, it was no big deal. Hell, if it didn't require a $20 donation to get in to the lecture, he'd go by himself. But they'd used his last paycheck to buy a desk for his old bedroom, and he'd be fucking god damned before he asked Jim for money in front of Simon or anyone else. 

Anyway, he had a backlog of essays to read, and he'd been spending precious little time writing his dissertation. Yeah, this was okay. He took his jacket off and hung it by the door, taking a final deep breath and exhaling the disappointment in a single huff. Setting his shoulders, Blair retrieved the reading he'd been putting off and settled in on the couch. 

Simon finally hollered up for Jim to get his ass in gear. Jim jogged down the stairs, immediately discerning Blair's plans for the evening. "That shit'll be picked up before I get home," he said, reaching for his coat. 

Blair's eye twitched as he flashed an embarrassed glance toward Simon and Mike. He grit his teeth against a rising swell of anger at Jim's unnecessary posturing. "Right," he said matter-of-factly, self consciously straightening the already skewed pile. 

"Later, Chief. Don't wait up," Jim called and ushered his friends out the door. 

Blair listened to their banter and they walked down the hall, then focused his attention on the pygmies of the African rain forest.   
  


* * *

Jim lumbered through the front door, surprised to find Blair in bed. The kid was usually good until one or two in the morning unless Jim insisted he come to bed earlier. He wondered if Blair was lying in wait upstairs or if he was asleep and they'd just fight about it in the morning. 

On the drive home he'd been thinking about how much to press his point. Okay, so it was shitty of him to blow off the lecture, but, come on, courtside seats? Against the Bulls? Like there was even a decision to make? Surely Blair didn't expect him to say, 'No guys, go ahead without me. I'm going to hear some nutty professor with my *boyfriend.*' Yeah, right, like *that* would ever happen. 

Jim went upstairs and flipped on the light. He knew from Blair's heart beat and breathing pattern that he was awake. "Who won?" Blair asked, his back turned. 

"Bulls creamed 'em," he said. "Jordan scored 40 points. I could practically touch him, Chief. It was a great game." Silence greeted him as he crawled into bed. "Sorry about the lecture. You enjoy it?" 

"I didn't go," Blair said, scooting further toward his side of the bed. 

"Why?" Jim asked. "You trying to *punish* me or something?" 

"No," Blair said testily. "Because my last paycheck is sitting downstairs in my old bedroom." 

"Well, Jesus, why didn't you say something?" Jim asked, feeling like he was being dumped on for something that wasn't even his fault. 

"I'm not your *kid,*" Blair said angrily. "I'm not begging for money from daddy, especially in front of Simon." 

"What does Simon have to do with anything? Look, I'm sorry about the lecture, I am. But Blair, courtside seats!" 

With his back still turned, Blair sighed noisily. "I'm not mad about that, Jim," he said with forced calm. "Of course you're going to go to a ball game over some dumb lecture. God, anybody would, okay? But I am allowed to be disappointed. And I'm sure as hell allowed to be pissed about your butch power plays whenever one of your friends is around. 'That shit'll be picked up before I get home.' That fucking sucks, Jim." 

"Okay, maybe I was laying it on a little thick..." 

"Maybe?!" Blair echoed incredulously. "I'm surprised you didn't order me to drop and give you fifty." 

Jim snorted in amusement, even though he knew Blair wasn't trying to be funny. 

"I get spooked sometimes," Jim said softly, inching a little closer to his lover. "Maybe because it's so easy for me to read what other people are feeling, maybe because I think what I feel for you is so damned obvious, I don't know. I just feel like sometimes everyone can see right through me, you know. Like they only have to take one look and they know exactly how I feel about you. I know that shouldn't bother me, Blair. I wish it didn't. I need to get a better handle on 'us,' before I'm ready to tell the world, okay?" 

Blair sighed, annoyed at how easily Jim could dissolve his anger. "Yeah, fine," he finally whispered tersely. "But I get to be pissed for a little while longer, okay?" 

Jim chuckled and drew Blair close to his chest. "Okay, Baby," he whispered and drifted contentedly off to sleep.   
  


* * *

A few days later, Jim rolled his neck as he mounted the stairs to the front door. He knew Blair wasn't home yet and couldn't decide if he was relieved or disappointed. The kid was still prickly and snappish, and even though Jim had already inwardly conceded Blair was in the right, he still hadn't said anything. One of his 'control issues,' he thought, grinning sardonically at the sound of Blair's voice in his head. Oh well, he'd make up for it. He was going to get the hang of this relationship or die trying, he thought, hanging his coat up and heading for the fridge. He opened a beer and looked over the calendar by the phone. It was his turn to provide dinner. He thought about taking Blair out, but he was tired and wanted Blair to himself for the evening, so he rooted through the drawer by the phone and pulled out a handful of menus, figuring he'd let Blair pick the restaurant. Heading upstairs to change, he hit the answering machine and listened in from the bedroom. 

"Hey Little B, it's Steve!" came a jovial voice. "Naomi gave me this number and your work number. Knowing what a lazy ass you are, I figured I'd try you at home first. How goes it, kiddo? Look, I'm in town for a couple of days and I'd love to see you. And I *do* mean see you. God, it's been, what, five years? Six? You were just a baby whenever. Naomi says you're all grown up now, and I for one, demand proof! She says you're working for the police department?! Come on, Little B, what gives there? Don't tell me you've gone arrow straight all of a sudden! No way in hell I'd believe that! Well look, I'm going to try you at work. If I don't get you, call me at my hotel. Um...555-6750. Room 2020. That's the penthouse, in case you're wondering. I'm traveling in high style these days. If you're a good boy, I'll give you the grand tour later. Talk to you soon." 

Jim slammed the dresser drawer much harder than necessary, jealousy clouding his vision for a moment. *Steve....Steve...hmm, who in the hell is Steve,* he wondered, wracking his memory to see if Blair had mentioned him before. Right, like Blair remembered anything more than a week old. 

Downstairs, a beep sounded and another message began. "Hi Jim, it's me," said Blair. "It's about...mm, 5:30 I guess. You aren't at work or in the truck. Where are you? Out making the world safe for humanity, I guess. Look, you're on your own for dinner, okay? An old friend of mine is in town and we're going out--to Bennetti's, no less--eat your heart out, Big Man. I know, I know, don't call you that. Later, man." 

Jim stood stalk still in the middle of the bedroom, his fist clenched around his shirt, his blood pounding in his ears and a cold, dangerous frost settling in around his heart. 

He was standing in much the same position when Blair came home. He'd moved downstairs and was staring out at the ocean when he heard Blair's car, then his feet on the stairs, then his key in the lock. He quietly opened the door then locked it behind him, set his keys by the counter and hung his coat on a hook. 

"You and Steve have a good time, Little B?" Jim asked, voice dripping with sarcasm. 

Blair jumped a foot. "Jeez, Man! What's with you?!" he gasped, fumbling to turn on a light. 

"Oh, I didn't want to disturb you and your old friend if you decided to come back to the loft for the night," Jim said coldly. "Didn't want to break the mood. You didn't answer me, Blair. Did you have fun?" 

Blair's face was drawn with confusion. "What's going on?" 

"What's going on is that I am *not* a fool!" Jim yelled. "Just because I don't fucking go down on you in the middle of the squad room does *not* mean that your ass is on the open market!" 

"Whoa man, you are, like, *so* out of line here," Blair said. 

"I'm not the one who was out until 2:30 in the morning, parading myself before some fucking...." 

"Just hold on there!" Blair said. "Steve Fletcher is an old friend of mine. Naomi met him, like 15 years ago, all right? He's the first person I ever came out to...." 

"I don't care who the fuck he is," Jim said. "That still doesn't mean I'm just going to sit here on the sidelines and...." 

"So, let me get this straight," Blair interrupted. "I'm supposed to keep my mouth shut any time we're around any of your buddies. Can't let them suspect big, strong Detective Ellison is screwing his queer roommate, can we? But I'm not even allowed to *have* friends? Or am I just now allowed to see them?" 

"I heard his message on the answering machine, Blair," Jim said. "This wasn't some *friendly* get-together old *Steve* was talking about!" 

"Just because *you* don't tell anybody about us, doesn't mean I don't," Blair said in a low voice. "Steve offered, and I told him I was seeing someone. Although now, I'm wondering why I bothered." He turned and headed for the bathroom. 

Blair's last words hit Jim like a lightening bolt. Momentarily blinded with hurt and rage, he growled and reached for Blair's shoulder, shoving him around and against the wall, shouting, "We are *not* through discussing this!" 

It only passed over Blair's face for an instant, replaced almost immediately with a fiery rage, but it was there long enough for Jim to read it. Understand it. And be horrified by it. Fear. Momentary though it was, it had filled Blair's eyes, hunched his shoulders, made him flinch in the anticipation of violence. 

*Oh God, he's afraid!* Jim inwardly wailed. *Of me!* 

Jim knew Blair's history; knew that Naomi's succession of boyfriends had not always treated Blair kindly. Or even humanely. Jim had promised himself early on that if he could assure Blair of one thing, it was that he would never again be afraid in his own home. Never. 

Jim's eyes flooded with such terror, Blair was certain he'd suddenly seen an intruder or something behind him. The anger on Blair's face turned to confusion when Jim jerked his hand away as if Blair was a live wire. The big man backed away, shaking his head in shame and dismay. "Oh god, Blair, I'm sorry," he whispered. "I'm sorry, shit, I'm so fucking sorry! I didn't mean anything....I heard that guy's voice on the answering machine and he's just talking, saying anything he wants to you and not even caring who else might hear the message and he's saying this shit to you and I'm thinking....I'm thinking I'm the only one who can talk to you like that and I just.... god, I just lost it! I'm sorry, okay? I'm sorry!" 

Blair ran a shaking hand through his hair, dazed by the breakneck pace of emotions ripping through his system. Confusion to anger to fear to concern.... 

"Jim, what the hell is going on, here?" Blair wondered aloud, the question not only encompassing the last five minutes, but the last two weeks. 

Jim miserably shook his head, flopping down on the couch, his shoulder slumped in defeat. "I'm sorry," he repeated brokenly. "I promised you....promised *myself* I'd never be rough with you, not in anger, Blair. Not like that." 

"I know you wouldn't hurt me," Blair said, perching on the coffee table. "What's going on with us, Jim?" His intense blue eyes bore right through Jim. "One of us is flipping out every other day here! What's happening?" 

"I don't know," Jim said, tiredly shaking his head. 

"Are we splitting up?" Blair asked, tears burning his eyes, his voice suddenly tense and choked. 

"No!" Jim instantly denied. 

The fear Jim had seen cloud Blair's face was back in full force. The younger man searched Jim's face for answers. Blair felt helpless. What in the hell did *he* know about a long term relationship. He wouldn't even recognize one if he saw it, much less know how to make one work himself. Were they just fooling themselves here? 

"What's going on?" Blair asked again. 

"I don't know," Jim said again. "We'll figure it out, Chief. This is just....a rough patch. They happen sometimes, you know?" 

Blair shook his head. No, he didn't know that. He always got out before a rough patch happened. "How do we make it stop?" he asked, bouncing nervously. "What do we do?" 

Jim reached for the younger man and drew him close. He had no idea what they should do, but even as he leaned down and covered Blair's mouth with his own, he knew the answer he was suggesting wasn't the right one. 

They clumsily groped each other and ended up having sex on the floor in front of the floor-to-ceiling windows. There was nothing comforting in their coupling. It was more desperate than passionate, more selfish than giving, each one taking parts of the other that had not been offered. Afterward they silently climbed the stairs, and as Blair lay in his usual post-coital position with his head nestled on Jim's chest, the normally warm, inviting pillow felt hard and unforgiving. Eventually he disengaged himself from Jim's hold and curled up on the edge of the bed with his back to his lover. 

Jim sighed, ashamed at the consummate relief flooding his system. He turned to his side as well and fell into a restless sleep.   
  


* * *

For the next few days, Jim and Blair were extra careful of one another. Exceedingly polite, overly gentle. It felt no more right than the animosity that had been coloring their days, but if it was no less stressful, at least it was quieter. 

Jim felt like someone was pushing him to make decisions he was not ready to make. The pressure wasn't coming from Blair, but he felt it none the less. He tried to explain it to Blair but succeeded only in unnerving the kid. 

"Like, you have to decide about us?" he had asked, his face paling considerably. 

"Not like you think," Jim said. "It's not like we've got to decide to keep going or not. It's more like, do we take it to the next level. Do we keep pushing forward, you know?" 

"No," Blair said honestly. "Where else is there to go, Jim? We live together, sleep together, work together. Jeez, there's no where else to go." 

But Jim knew that wasn't true, because something, or someone, was pushing him to make the move.   
  


* * *

They were still in that overly solicitous mode a few days later when Blair called Jim at the station. He was heading up to Carver's Pointe, his thinking place, as he called it. Wanted to clear out his cluttered mind before dinner. Jim had answered him carefully, listening hard for anything in Blair's tone. Blair had finally chuckled and said, "Hey, Jim, we're okay, all right? I'll see you at dinner. And bring those crutches with you, okay?" 

Jim had grinned and nearly choked on the surprise bubble of laughter that jumped up in him. 

It was awfully hard to concentrate the remainder of the afternoon.   
  


* * *

Carver's Pointe was one of Blair's favorite sites in the state, or rather, it used to be before every rock climbing enthusiast in the western US got wind of it. Now it was touristy and crowded, at least in the summer. In February it was nice and deserted, just a few die hard climbers around, and most of them only showed up on the weekends. Blair smiled and inhaled luxuriously at the open expanse of sky. He and Jim should get away for a long weekend he thought. A change of scenery was just what they needed to get back on track. 

He grinned now as he remembered their phone conversation. Jim had almost seemed....worried, when Blair mentioned Carver's Pointe, like he was afraid Blair was still mad or something. Then, when Blair made that crack about the crutches, he could almost see Jim melting right there. Yeah, they were okay. Just a rough patch, like Jim had said. Blair realized he'd never really seen Naomi work through a relationship with anyone--she always left before it got old. Maybe that's what made him freak out when everything wasn't perfect. 

It was time to make a decision, Jim had said that too, but Blair still wasn't sure what the big man was talking about. Hadn't they decided everything already? He had, or he thought he had. The first time he said 'I love you,' to Jim that was all she wrote as far as he was concerned. What else was there? 

Blair looked up at the clear, blue sky and took another deep, cleansing breath of fresh air. He'd made the decision, but had he told Jim, he wondered. Had he made it clear just what 'I love you' meant to him? He tried to think back over the past several months and came to the conclusion that he hadn't. Not really. Could that be what this was all about--just putting into words feelings that had already long been made? Blair laughed out loud at the simplicity of it all. For all Jim's intuitiveness and his talent for reading people, they were both complete dolts when it came to this relationship junk. 

Blair stood up and stretched his arms over his head. *Well, man, if it's a decision you want,* he thought with a grin. *I've got a doozy for you.* 

He could never say for sure what happened next. He knew what he *thought* happened, but he also knew it was impossible. Probably an errant pebble, he figured. Or a really strong gust of wind. It *felt* like two hands at his shoulder blades gently thrust him forward. Whatever it was, one minute Blair was thinking of the quickest route back to the loft, and the next, he was sailing through the air then somersaulting down a punishing mountain slope. He remembered having a single thought--*Man, this is going to hurt!* and then everything went black.   
  


* * *

Jim was just putting on his coat and reaching for his car keys when it hit. He didn't know what to call it--a vision? A daydream? Some kind of premonition? Whatever it was, he saw it with perfect clarity. No longer was he standing by his desk in the squad room, he was standing on a ledge at Carver's Pointe, watching in horror as Blair shouted in surprise and tumbled down a twenty-foot ledge. He saw Blair's limp body land with a thud against a boulder, then the scene faded. 

Jim grabbed a fistful of shirt at his chest, as if he was trying to keep his thundering heart from bursting through his skin. Oh god, oh god, oh god, what the fuck was that? What the *fuck* was that?! 

Jim looked from his desk to Simon's office, to the car keys in his hand. What the fuck? Think, Ellison, think! 

He dialed the loft to see if there were any messages on the answering machine, but there weren't. He tried Blair's cell phone, but the kid couldn't remember to take it with him half the time and when he *did* have it with him, odds were the battery had worn out. 

He noticed his hands were shaking, which brought about the larger awareness that his entire body was trembling. Jesus Christ, what was that? How could the vision have been so clear? 

Jim knew he didn't have much time to make a decision, so without letting himself think too much, he stood up and headed for Simon's office. "Blair's in trouble," he said without fanfare. 

Simon started to say something smart, but one look at Jim's pale face and frantic eyes held him back. "Sit down," he said. "What's the problem?" 

Jim opened his mouth to speak but didn't have any idea what to say. "Simon, you're going to think I'm crazy, okay? I know that. You're going to think I'm crazy or overreacting or something, but...." 

"Just tell me what's wrong," Simon said, coming to sit on the edge of his desk. 

"Blair's up at Carver's Pointe. He....he fell and he needs help. We need....we need a medi-vac chopper and a couple of paramedics and I think I can lead us to where he is." 

"He fell?" Simon echoed. "Did someone call?" he asked blankly. Jim shook his head, and Simon asked, "Did Blair call you? The cell phone? You think he can lead us to where he...." 

Jim looked up at Simon, stopping him with the intensity of his gaze. "I know you're going to think I'm crazy," Jim said again. "But I....I saw him fall, Simon. Or I sensed it or felt it or....Jesus, I don't know. I can't explain it right now. Please Simon, we don't have a lot of time. He's....he's hurt!" 

Simon pushed the door to his office closed. "Jim, I can't just order a medi-vac up because you *think* Sandburg might be in trouble!" he said in a low voice, incredulous that he had to even explain such a thing to Jim. 

"I don't *think* it, Sir, I know it!" Jim replied, his desperate eyes following Simon as he nervously paced around the room. "Maybe it's part of this Guide/Sentinel thing. Hell, Simon, maybe I really am the kid's Blessed Protector. He's hurt. He needs help!" 

"And what do we say if you take the chopper up and you spot Sandburg tooling down the highway toward home? You have $12,000 to pay back the department, because that's about what it costs every time we send that baby up!" 

Jim felt what little control he had left slowly ebbing away. He clenched his jaw shut and struggled to come up with the necessary words to convince his captain. "Please!" was all he came up with. "Please, Simon. As a friend. As my friend. Please, let me do this." 

"Jim!" Simon said helplessly. "This is nuts!" 

"He's my lover, Simon," Jim blurted out, as if that somehow changed the situation. Made it more believable. More plausible. 

*He's my life, Simon. He's the reason my heart beats and my lungs fill....* 

Simon ran a hand over his face. "Jesus Christ, Jim, you finally decide to come out to me over *this?!*" 

Jim's head was swirling. "Finally decide?" he said vaguely. 

"Come on, Ellison! I've tracked down wise guys and serial killers! You think I don't know you and Sandburg are lovers?" 

"So can I have the chopper?" Jim asked. 

Simon Banks suddenly had to remind himself that hardened ex- military commandos didn't beg for anything   
  


* * *

Blair came to with a start, shocked at the brilliance of the blue sky and thoroughly confused about why he was lying on the ground looking up at it. 

He thought he should sit up and take a look around and sent out the command to do so when his body seized up in the most painful, paralyzing cramp he had ever experienced. He groaned and silently pleaded with his body to ease up. *I won't move!* he promised. *I won't do anything! Please god, let go, let go, god, please, let go!* 

Eventually the spasm passed, leaving him spent and breathless. "Okay, Blair, think!" he said out loud. "What the hell happened here?" Maybe if he just moved his head a little to the right.... 

It hadn't even taken movement that time, just the *idea* of it and another spasm rocked his body, just as bad as the first. *Oh god, I'm sorry!* he thought. *I won't move again, I promise. I mean it this time, I do! Oh god, let me go, let me go! I won't move, just let me go!* The pain eased off, but it felt like a long time before Blair could coax a lucid thought from his muddled brain. 

"Okay, I took a nose dive off the cliff, that much is pretty obvious. And my cell phone is....where?" Blair felt something in the pocket of his jacket pressing against his abdomen. It was small and rectangular. Okay, that could be the phone, right? He could have slid it in his pocket on his way out the door, right? And it could be charged and ready to use, right? Right? 

Blair was afraid to reach for it, afraid one of those awful cramps would come back, but finally he screwed up the nerve to retrieve the phone. 

He sighed in relief. No cramp. Then he groaned. No phone. 

It was the hand-held tape recorder he used to organize his thoughts, keep his reminders, plan his days. Oh, yeah, that was going to come in *real* handy down here.   
  


* * *

"Take another pass!" Jim shouted over his headphones and ignored the way the pilot looked over at Simon for confirmation. They'd been searching for over an hour, and Jim knew Simon was just about finished humoring him. Why couldn't they find the Corvair at least? If they could just find the car! 

It was dark now, and Jim had refused the night-vision goggles with some lame excuse he couldn't even remember now. 

He had all of his senses wide open, but all he picked up was the memory of Blair's voice. It was a constant stream of consciousness. 

"...I kind of envy that sometimes--the way you live your life going from point A to point B. I've always gone whichever way the wind blows me. Except for school. I've stuck with that. I know I act kind of...blase about it, like it's no big deal. I make jokes about movie rights and stuff like that, but I'm serious about what I'm doing here, and I'm really proud of the way I've stuck with it....." 

He didn't remember their ever having a conversation like that, but they must have. 

When he wasn't hearing Blair's voice, he kept hearing the lyrics to some song Blair liked. He couldn't remember the artist. Blair was forever shoving CD's in the player then skipping to some song and saying, "This is, like, so *us,* man!" And Jim would listen half- heartedly and try his best not to mutter about the younger generation's taste in music. And now one of those stupid songs was looping around his brain. 

> __  
> Not enough time  
>  For all that I want for you  
> Not enough time  
> For every kiss and every touch  
> And all the times  
> I want to be inside you....
> 
> Make time stop.  
> 

God, if only he could. Make time stand still until they found Blair and made sure he was okay. Please, please be okay. 

Suddenly, Jim was again hearing Blair's voice, but it couldn't possibly be a remembered conversation. 

"I'm so cold, Jim.... It's getting harder to breathe. I think I coughed up some blood earlier. It was too dark for me to tell. I'm so tired all of a sudden. I'm trying to stay awake, Jim, I am. It's so hard, though...." 

"Don't do this to me, Blair," Jim muttered under his breath. "Hold on, Baby. Keep trying, Baby. Do it for me, Baby. Do it for me! Please, Blair! Please, please, please, please....." As more time passed, Jim no longer knew if he was pleading with Blair or Someone with a little higher level of authority.   
  


* * *

After another thirty minutes in the sky, they spotted him, or rather, Jim spotted him. The pilot was sure he was mistaken and didn't want to take the chopper down, but Simon insisted. 

They landed a hundred yards from Blair's still form. The paramedics followed close behind Jim as he sprinted toward him, shouting, "Blair?! It's okay, Blair! We're here! We're here!" Jim nearly dove toward Blair. "Bring a backboard!" he yelled before he should have been able to see anything. "His right leg's broken and so are a couple of ribs!" 

Unconscious, Blair was trembling violently with shock, his skin cold and clammy and his breath coming in choppy gasps. The paramedics went to work, politely working around Jim, until he was too much of a nuisance to be ignored. A couple of pointed looks at Simon, and the captain gently pulled Jim out of their way. 

"He'll be okay," Jim said, rocking on his heels and hugging himself tightly. "He's gotta be okay. He will be. I'd feel it if he wasn't Simon. I'd know. He'll be fine." 

*Please, please, please, please.....* 

Simon glanced from Jim to Blair. One of the paramedics was securing him to a backboard, while the other had placed an oxygen mask over his mouth and nose and was now starting an IV of some clear liquid. They furiously traded information back and forth until one of them nodded at Simon. While they carried Blair to the chopper, Simon saw Jim to the co-pilot's seat. 

"I'll drive Blair's car back to Cascade," he offered. "Don't let that kid ever say I never did anything for him, you hear?!" 

Jim nodded still tightly focused inward to control the violent swirl of emotions. "Simon, thanks!" he called over the chopper's motor. 

"He'll be fine, Jim," Simon called back, unsure if he had the right to offer such hope. 

Jim managed a small smile of acknowledgment. "I know, Simon," he said with such confidence the word 'denial,' sprang immediately to Simon's mind.   
  


* * *

Blair's heart stopped once before they got to the hospital and the paramedics had to shock it back in to action. Jim felt a passing sense of terror, but the certainty of Blair's survival washed over him even before he heard them telling the hospital he was back in sinus rhythm. 

They landed on the rooftop and Blair was whisked into the ER. Jim didn't even bother trying to force his way in with his lover. He could hear well enough from the waiting room, and he knew Blair was going to be fine. 

At some point, a man introduced himself as Dr. Brighton and told Jim that Blair's spleen had been punctured by a rib and that he needed surgery. He cautioned Jim that the kid had been in shock when they brought him in and that surgery in his condition was somewhat risky, but they had no other alternative. His right leg was broken and there was some swelling around the spinal cord, but there didn't appear to be any permanent damage. 

Jim signed everything they put in front of him and made polite small talk with the nurses as he sat vigil in the waiting room. 

He listened to the tape Blair made while he waited for him and rocked slightly, keeping time with the inflection of Blair's voice. 

He calmly informed Simon of Blair's condition when the captain joined him, and still he sat after Dr. Brighton informed him that the surgery went as well as could be expected, but Blair was very weak, and the next 12 hours would determine whether or not he recovered. 

Jim smiled pleasantly and took a deep breath. "He's going to be fine, Captain," he said, watching the doctor return to the operating room. He took another breath and stretched his arms over his head. "Mmm, now I'm going to take a long, hot shower and sleep for a few hours," he said, and Simon wondered if he'd actually heard what the doctor said. "I want to be here when Blair wakes up," he explained at Simon's look of confusion. 

"Jim, did you hear what the doctor said?" Simon asked, gaping at his detective when he actually started to *laugh.* 

"He doesn't know Blair," Jim said dismissively. "But I do. And he's going to be fine." He took Blair's car keys from Simon and followed the captain out to the parking lot. He really did need to shower and sleep for a few hours, but he had one very important errand to take care of first.   
  


* * *

The nurses called it one of the most miraculous recoveries they had ever seen, but Jim showed no surprise as he made his way to Blair's room the next day. 

He stuck his head in the door and smiled when he saw Blair awake and sitting up. He was pale to be sure, but his eyes sparkled at his lover. Jim walked in with his hands behind his back, strolling slowly up to the bed. 

"Not much of a Valentine's Day, huh?" Blair said after Jim gently kissed his forehead. 

With a flourish, Jim presented a single red rose to Blair. "I don't know, Baby," he said, his voice sounding rough and unused. "I think this will go down as one of the finest days I'll ever remember." 

Blair smiled and smelled the flower, touching the velvety soft petals, running a finger over a thorn. "I knew you'd find me," he said softly. "Knew it, like I know my own name. Like I know one breath will follow another. I've never been so sure of anyone or anything before. It was awesome." 

Jim smiled again. He sat down on the edge of the bed, but sensed it hurt Blair to have him so near so he quickly stood up and found a chair. Blair grimaced in apologetic relief and watched Jim study the floor for a minute. "I, uh, almost hate to tell you this," Jim said, looking up at Blair with a wry grin. "I listened to the tape, Blair. And half of what you said, I....I already heard." 

"Why would you hate to tell me that?" Blair asked. 

Jim shook his head, indicating that Blair didn't get it. "I mean....while you were missing, I...I heard it, your voice, like....in my mind. Word-for-word. The first time I heard the tape, I just couldn't believe it!" 

Blair looked over at Jim with eyes like giant saucers. "When I heard you telling me to hold on....when I heard your voice saying, 'please, please, please....' that was....Was that....real?" 

Jim's heart sputtered in his chest. "Jesus," he breathed. "This is.... this is unbelievable! I knew where you were," Jim continued, his voice still in that conspiratorial whisper. "As sure as you were I was coming, that's how sure I was about where you were. I swear to God, Blair, I knew what your *injuries* were." 

"That's, like, so awesome," Blair said. "I've always felt the connection between us, but I thought it was more....I don't know.... ordinary, you know? One lover for another, not like....this!" His face clouded with the implication, but only for a moment. Suddenly, Blair brightened considerably. "Hey, does that mean when I forget to call, you'll still know I'm going to be late?" 

Jim looked surprised, then shook his head in mock exasperation and pulled his chair closer to the bed. "Might make things a little more peaceful, huh? Eliminate the need for another one of these getaways. I'm all for that. Besides, I need a bit of a built-in lie detector where you're concerned." 

With an embarrassed shrug, Blair held out his hand and smiled when the older man took it. Jim gently brushed the hair back from Blair's face. "I was scared shitless we wouldn't get there in time," he said, tears pooling in his eyes despite his best effort to keep them at bay. "I kept having these flashes of panic that we'd be too late, and I'd lose you. Blair, you're all there is of me. Without you, there's nothing but....emptiness. I kept thinking back to who I was before you came to me, and I don't even recognize that man. He has no spirit, no laughter. No purpose. You've given me a reason for....for everything and more joy than any one man deserves. I can't believe I wanted to somehow keep all of that a secret! I can't believe I thought I *could!*" 

"I should come within an inch of my life more often," Blair teased. 

Jim shook his head. He wasn't ready to joke about it yet. "I don't want either one of us to spend another minute wondering about us," he continued. "Wondering if it's for keeps, wondering if I love you as much as you love me or the other way around, if the next disagreement, the next blow up, will be the end of it....Wondering what other people are thinking....I want both of us to know--shit, Blair, I want the *world* to know--that....that no matter what, we're solid. Forever. For better, for worse. You know?" 

Blair smiled sweetly. "I know," he whispered. 

Jim seemed to relax a fraction. He fished around in his back pocket and pulled out a small box. He stared at it before raising his eyes to Blair's. "I bought this the day we brought you in. Brighton still wouldn't tell me if you were going to be okay or not, but I knew you would be. I knew you weren't going to leave me. I wanted....a symbol of that." He opened the box for Blair, then gently placed it in his palm. 

In it was a thin, gold wedding band. 

Blair's heart fell to his knees, skipped a beat, then chugged along in double time. He was relieved they had disconnected the heart monitor, or else it would have been going crazy, summoning nurses and doctors from all over the hospital. Not that he could hide his thundering, out-of-control pulse from Jim. The younger man stared in stunned disbelief at the outward sign of all Jim was offering. It was everything Blair had been afraid to ask for outright. Everything he had ever wanted. Sitting there in the palm of his hand. 

Jim slid the ring out of the box and showed Blair the inscription. It said simply, "Make time stop." 

"God, Jim," Blair whispered, barely able to breathe. "Are you sure?" 

"Positive." No room for doubt in that tone. 

Jim took Blair's other hand, being careful of the IV needle. "Will you wear my ring, Blair?" he asked, eyes radiating a sincerity Blair felt as heat in the center of his chest. 

Blair stared incredulously at his lover. "But what if....what if someone at the station asks me about it." 

"You tell them I gave it to you," Jim said, chin raised in that defiant way of his. "Will you wear my ring?" he asked again, "Will you let the world know your mine? Will you do that, Baby?" He slipped it on Blair's finger, neither one surprised at the perfect fit. 

Blinking back tears, Blair hugged his hand to his chest. "Just try to get it back, Jim," he dared, and they both nervously chuckled. 

"God, I love you," Blair whispered, eyes closed, head back, as if the force of it had suddenly sapped the energy from him. "Some days I say to myself, 'Okay, this is the absolute most one human being can love another,' and then you do something like this, and it's like....it's like what I feel is amplified a thousand times over." 

Jim leaned over and softly kissed Blair's lips. Blair opened his mouth and deepened the kiss, but his weakened lungs wouldn't allow for it to go too far. He laughed quietly when Jim drew back in concern at his breathlessness. "It's my lungs, Big Man, not you," Blair teased, and finally Jim managed a half-hearted smile. 

Jim took Blair's hand and held it out for both of them to look at. "That looks beautiful," he said gruffly, his thumb running against the cool, smooth metal band. He brought the hand to his mouth and kissed it, eyes closed in remembered pain of everything he almost lost. They sat quietly for a long time. "Hey, Blair? You know about for better or worse, for richer for poorer, in sickness and in health?" 

"Mmm," Blair said. He was feeling sleepy and warm. And safe. 

Jim smoothed some hair off his face and leaned in to kiss the spot he'd cleared. "I mean all of that, Baby. Every last word. But can you do me a favor?" 

"Anything," Blair whispered, opening his eyes a slit. 

"Let's not pack all of it into a single week anymore, okay?" 

Blair laughed. "For you, Big Man? Anything." 

"Hey Blair?" 

"Yeah." 

"Don't call me that unless...." 

"Hey, I thought that's what this was all about!" Blair said, coming further awake. "Damn the torpedoes, full speed ahead and all that." 

"You didn't let me finish. I was just going to say, don't call me that unless you *are* talking about my dick. I've got a reputation to uphold, you know?" 

Blair laughed again, thinking it seemed like years since he'd felt so happy and carefree. "I'd ask you a reputation for what, but I'm afraid of the answer," he said wryly. 

Jim kissed him and nuzzled his ear. "When I get you home, I'll *show* you," he promised in a sultry whisper. 

A buzz of warmth started in Blair's stomach and quickly spread outward. He shivered in anticipation. "Well, I'm going to be on crutches anyway," he said with a grin. "No one will ever guess why I'm really limping." 

They giggled for a moment before Jim's gentle pets lulled Blair towards sleep. "I don't really get this mind link or whatever it is between us," Jim whispered. "But I hope some day you get inside me enough to feel what I feel for you. Just for a single minute I want you to know how....total my love is. How it completes me and centers me. How everything that I am starts at that one point and moves forward. How the only way I exist is through you." 

"I don't need to be in your head to understand that," Blair whispered back. "Jim, that's just how it is for me. I swear to God, when I close my eyes, it's like your heart is pumping my blood. And part of me says that's crazy. But the other part says, maybe so, but that's the way it is." 

"I love you, Blair." 

"I love you." 

"Happy Valentine's Day." 

"Same to you, Big Man. Same to you."   
  


* * *

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